Unwritten: Uncharted
by Kate Christie
Summary: "Sliding his hands down, he hoisted her up, set her on the smooth, wide, perfectly positioned banister. Whoever built this porch deserved a bonus." This is the 3rd and final M-Rated companion piece to "Unwritten" by Caffinate-me. Co-written with Kate Christie.
1. Breathe Me (Chapter 16 addition)

Unwritten: Breathe Me.

Summary: "Don't worry, Castle. It's been a while, but I think I can remember what to do." An addition to Chapter 16 of "Unwritten" by Caffinate-Me. Co-written by Kate Christie and Caffinate-Me.

A/N: A big thank you to Dtrekker for the amazing and very last minute graphic for this fic. We love you Angie!

Disclaimer: We can imagine that this is what AWM had them doing behind closed doors.

Be my friend  
Hold me, wrap me up  
Unfold me

Warm me up  
And breathe me

Breathe Me, Sia

Breathe Me.

Her palms ran down his cheeks, relishing the feel of bristly five o'clock shadow against her work-hardened skin. The manicurist had blanched when she saw Kate's hands earlier that day, scrubbing at the calluses as hard as she could, but still they remained—a treacherous reminder of the past ten years. Willing the thoughts of prison and the workroom out of her mind, she pressed herself against him, two thin layers of clothing the only thing separating them. One arm held on, wrapped securely around his neck, anchoring her upper body as her ankles locked behind his back. She rolled her hips, triggering a half-choked moan.

It had been way too long.

Kate hadn't realized how much she had wanted this, yearned for this moment over the past few months. Imagined flashes of it had flooded her mind: phantom lips on her own, hands ghosting over her while she lay in bed at night in her solitary cell, her fingers doing what she wished his could do.

Snapping her from her descent into memory, his hands slipped under her shirt, warm palms meeting overheated flesh. She shuddered involuntarily as he pulled her against him, the smile he brushed against her lips a self-satisfied smirk. She countered with another roll of her hips, and a flare of satisfaction rose in her when he let out a low groan.

She could do this—allow herself to be free. She wasn't a captive here. She could be in charge.

Freezing, her body went rigid as he stopped in the middle of the room. A new level of clarity shone through the haze she had been living in the last two days since walking out of the gates of the prison and back into the world.

She could be in control.

Her legs unwound from his middle, traitorous knees buckling as he lowered her to the ground.

He let out a chuckle. "Getting a little light-headed there, Beckett?"

A burst of anger flared inside her, and she surged up in a bruising kiss, her fingers fumbling with his tie, throwing it to the side.

"Don't call me Beckett."

Regret flashed in his eyes where playfulness had been just a moment before. She didn't like to be called Beckett; that was what she had been called in there.

"Kate."

Her name was a whisper on his lips, filled with more tenderness than she had experienced since her mother had died. She shuddered again. His hands dipped below the waistband of her jeans, brushing gently over her skin, sending a trail of goose bumps dancing over the sensitive flesh of her belly. She growled in response before going back to undo his buttons, fingers trembling.

She could do this.

Shaking, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Castle pulled back, his hands coming up to still hers, and she huffed in exasperation, attempting to free herself from his grip.

"Hey." His voice low, soothing. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

There was a moment of freefall inside her chest as her heart slowed, stopped, mechanically restarted. Her eyes fluttered closed, and in her most practiced but unconscious gesture, she drew her lower lip between her teeth. He didn't want to do this.

Finally she found her voice, the realization clear.

"You don't."

Of course he didn't. In the heat of the moment, it had seemed like a good idea—high off of a date with a gorgeous woman without mental issues.

She could taste the alcohol on his breath.

But when it came down to her, jittery and fumbling like a teenager on prom night…

"Oh, no," Castle replied, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, thumb caressing the hard line of her cheek bone. "I definitely want to do this, but…"

He paused, glancing around the room as he drew in a breath, weighing his next words.

"You have done this before, right?"

Her eyes flew open. He thought…?

This insecurity she could fix. Reaching up, kissing him gently, she smiled against his lips. "Don't worry, Castle. It's been a while, but I think I can remember what to do."

She stepped back, her lips once again tucked between her teeth as she pulled in a deep breath and reached for the hem of her shirt, drawing it up over her head.

His eyes widened as he looked down at her, a hand coming up to run through his hair. They raked over her partially bare body: thin frame, abs taught and toned with muscle, a litany of yellow and green bruises fading, scars outlining her past, what she had overcome. Survived.

Desire pooled in his eyes.

Yes, she could do this. She could be in control. Finally.

Reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra, she was stopped by his hands, gentle but firm, against her upper arms, a soft smile on his face.

"Hey, slow down. You've gotta leave some of the fun for me."

Dropping her arms, she absorbed the warmth from his hands as they stroked up and down: soothing, inciting.

Stepping in, he brushed his lips along the shell of her ear.

"I'm not in any hurry."

A surge of affection for this man washed over her, for his romance and his kindness. He wanted this to be special for her. She had no defense against that tenderness.

Nodding in agreement, she laid her head on his shoulder, inhaled his scent, let her ribs expand and fill her up with him.

His fingers tickled the skin at the edge of her bra straps as they slid down, sought the clasp, unlatching it. Removing the black satin from her arms, his hands returned to hover at her breasts. Head still resting against him, she couldn't gauge his expression, so she leaned into his chest and spoke instead.

"Please."

The warmth encased her flesh, and her nipples peaked insistently at his touch.

Sinking further into him, her hands started work on his belt and pants, and both dropped together to the floor just as he attached his mouth to the curve of her neck. She sighed against his skin at the crystal clear reality of that contact, at the feel of his tongue tasting her. He hadn't been kidding about slowing down. She still had on pants, and they were no nearer to the bed, but his hands and his mouth were so distracting…

The outside world dimmed, faded, and they had nothing but time.

But she did want to kiss him. It took Herculean effort to raise her head, but she drew him up from her neck, and then everything else was easy. Parting her lips, letting him inside, letting him set the pace of the kiss—it wasn't what she'd ever thought she wanted, but with him… Ceding some of her hard-won control was its own heady rush.

Her arms were around his neck when she felt his hands unfasten her jeans, nudge them down over her hips. She stepped out of them clumsily, half-falling into his waiting embrace.

Backing toward the bed, he framed her face with his hands.

"So beautiful."

He hadn't even had a proper look at her.

Reaching the edge of the mattress, he climbed to the center, grabbed her hand and tugged her with him, until they were kneeling, chests and hips aligned and grazing softly together with every quickened breath.

Her hands, sure and seeking, wrapped at his waist, outlined the curves of muscle and bone, found his navel and drew out a chuckle. Ticklish…. Good to know.

Mapping his chest, firm and solid, she elicited a gasp when her palms met his nipples. He seemed content to watch her until that moment, but in a flash he was surrounding her again, catching her up in his arms, shifting her down to lay beside him.

His mouth went to work again, first at her breasts, hot and demanding, making her arch into the sensation. And then he drifted down, leaving a fiery trail in the wake of tongue and lips and teeth as he inched toward her last scrap of clothing. When his lips met black satin and lace, he used the tip of his tongue to trace the edge of material in a maddeningly slow swipe from hip to hip.

Her patience nearly exhausted from all this slow build, she lifted her hips, made a greedy little moaning noise at the back of her throat. He responded by hooking his thumbs in the lace at each hip, sliding down that final barrier.

She wanted him inside her, but he seemed to have other plans. One hand skimmed up her calf, insinuated itself between her knees, parted her thighs, and he settled between them, his intentions quite clear even in her lust-induced haze.

Watching him from the angle of his pillow, she tried to prepare for the onslaught. Though she was no prude, this always seemed so intimate, made her feel so exposed. The first puff of his warm breath across her oversensitive flesh made her gasp, shut her eyes, but she opened them when she felt his hand grasp her own. She squeezed tight as the flat of his tongue made contact. She couldn't suppress the tiny thrust of her hips.

One long, thick finger parted her folds, slid inside, and she thought she might fly off the bed. When that digit curled, pressed firmly against her, she wasn't sure what was happening—the sensations were too intense—but she knew she wanted more.

Slowly, he swirled over her, eyes swiveling up to look at her, watch her reacting to him: her harsh intake of breath, her slow, vocal exhale, the pressure of her grip on his hand. As the motions of his fingers and tongue escalated, so did her cries. Everything was spiraling up, shifting so fast after all the waiting.

Too much waiting.

She was so close, desperately rocking her hips by the time he closed his lips around her and suckled. A second finger joined the first, spread her wide, stretching gloriously where nothing and no one had—oh he was stroking harder, and the coil finally released inside her. Sparking warmth bloomed over her body in riotous waves of pleasure. He gentled to ease her through, and as she came back to herself, dizzy and breathless and boneless in his bed, he separated to climb up her body.

All she could process, the only thought in her head, was that she wanted all of him, and she wanted it now.

"Rick?"

He seemed to understand the urgency, shed his boxers, reached over to his bedside table, and sheathed himself quickly as he pressed between her thighs.

Finding his eyes, she opened wide for him, pulled him over her with all the strength she could muster. The weight of his body pressing her into the bed made her feel wild, unhinged… grounded. He kissed her, and his hard, heavy length pressed low in her belly. She had told him that she knew what she was doing, but she had neglected to mention that she hadn't been the most experienced… and he was not small.

His hips retreated, aligning them, and he parted their lips in favor of locking eyes. Nodding her answer to his unspoken question, she felt him, smooth and insistent, against her entrance. And then he pressed forward, gentle but steadfast, and the pressure was staggering, almost like the very first time.

And then her taut flesh succumbed, and he inched inside her. Letting out a startled breath, she stiffened at the intrusion. She had forgotten what this was like—the give required from her own body to let his inside. His look was one of utter panic, but he hadn't hurt her, just surprised her a bit. Eyes wide, she breathed through flared nostrils and made the conscious effort to let everything go, let her body relax.

As all of her settled around him, a smile teased at her lips, and relief washed over his features. When she wound her legs around him, used her heels to encourage him deeper, he seemed to understand that what she wanted most was _more_.

And so he gave it to her. Gave her everything.

He slid deep, found a slow, steady, maddening rhythm that wound her up again. Pressed tight against her, his body spoke all the words his lips were afraid to voice.

And when her feet dropped to the bed to find purchase, to keep up and speed up and carry them up together, her body answered his. Realization dawned in his eyes just as she neared the edge, and he ghosted his lips over her own, sharing breath, not quite a kiss. The pool of heat that had been gathering since he entered her surged, spread out in rivulets of shocking heat that unfurled through every nerve.

When her body stiffened, arced against his, he breathed her name against her lips and let go with her, thrusting in shaky bursts as her release dragged his forcibly from his body.

As they stilled, he tucked her against his chest, still too overcome to separate from her. And to her surprise, she felt no hint of duress, restraint, confinement.

She just felt loved.

After their chests ceased heaving, he did let her go, slid off toward the bathroom, returned a moment later to pull down the covers and tuck them both underneath, drag her against him, spent but wakeful. Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind in this hazy, rosy cloud of bliss.

Afterglow. She recognized it without a memory to go on.

His chest expanded with intended words, eyes blinked brightly at hers through the dim city light slating in through the blinds.

"You okay?"

She lifted her head at the quiet question, arms folded across his chest, propping her up so she could look into his inquiring blue eyes, which shone slightly grey. She smiled up at him, the way his hair stuck up and flopped over his forehead at the same time. Remembering the look in his eyes when he thought he had hurt her, the relief when he realized he hadn't. There was no one else she could even imagine doing this with. No matter how hard she had tried to deny it, to convince herself that it wasn't true, she trusted him, more than any other person in her life.

"More than okay. You?"

His hand ran over her back, fingers caressing the line of the scar there, still a puckered angry wrinkle. His hand stilled, fingers pressed into the flesh, both of them remembering her lying desolate and almost alone in the hospital. She felt her breath hitch. Just another reminder of how his presence superseded every single "almost" since she had let him in.

He nodded, his hand moving again, dipping into the small of her back, demarcating his own claim to her body. But this ownership was right. This possession was wanted. He voiced what she had been thinking. "You're really here."

Smiling again, her body relaxed down into his, her hand trailed up and down his broad chest, enjoying the feel of the fine hair under her fingertips. "I'm really here."

He fell silent, head resting back against the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling, and she rested her head against her folded hands, turning to stare out into the dark expanse of the room.

"Why did you start writing?"

He sighed under her, fingers coming up to caress the back of her skull, brushing through her hair.

"Because I had to. The words would just swirl around in my head and I had to get them out; saying them wasn't enough. I would speak them once and then they would be gone. No permanence, and sometimes they would come out wrong. But when I wrote I could make sure they were right. I could tell the story I wanted to tell, not the one others wanted to hear."

She swiveled her head back around to look up at him. "Why true crime? With this… passion, the creativity you have, you could have written anything."

"I wanted to write a novel. I tried for years," he whispered as she stared up at him, splayed across his chest.

His fingers tangled and untangled in her hair, unconsciously undoing complications.

"What happened?" She whispered back, not wanting to break the silence with her voice. "You're an excellent writer."

"The words wouldn't come. I had no inspiration." He sighed. "It's lying half finished in a box somewhere."

"You should finish it."

"I should." He ran a hand up her back, squeezing her to his chest in a half hug as he dipped his head to look in her eyes. "You inspire me."

A playful smile flashed across her lips as she wiggled her hips slightly against him. "I can feel exactly how much I inspire you."

He growled, his arm tight around her back as he rolled them over, grinning at her surprised yelp of laughter.

"I love it when you laugh. You should do it more often," he whispered, his lips almost touching hers as he once again hovered over her.

Oh, but this time it was her turn to lead. She distracted him with a kiss, letting him get lost in it just enough… and then she flipped him, ended up straddling his lap, smirking down at his flabbergasted expression. Not displeased, though.

"That was so hot."

She let out a single loud note of laughter, leaned into him just a bit, and then he was curling up to meet her mouth, grip her ribs.

Covers forgotten, the chill in the room hit her flushed skin, heightened the feel of his hands kneading into the muscles on either side of her spine.

His weight shifted toward her, and suddenly his thighs were propping up against her back, forcing her weight against him so that there was no longer a question in her mind about round two.

Hell, at this rate, she could probably handle round five. She had a long dry spell to make up for, after all.

Breaking their kiss, she grabbed protection from his drawer, wrapped her hand around his base, stroked gently up and down, reveling in his body's response to the tease. His hands braced behind him to hold him upright at the sensation.

When a gruff "Kate" assaulted her ear, she covered him and rose up, poised to take him, put him out of his misery.

Above him now, she could watch his eyes widen as she slid herself along his length, teased herself with his tip, making her own breath hitch as she circled him at her center.

When she could stand no more, she perched over him and sank fast and hard, taking as much of him as she could at once.

"Jesus, Kate!"

His exclamation drowned out what she was sure would have been a very unladylike grunt of satisfaction at their rejoining.

But she couldn't help it—she was so _full_ with gravity pulling her down. And straddling him, she had full command of the angle and pace.

Craving speed, she rose and fell hard, almost immediately rose again, but he had picked up her rhythm, and so this time thrust to meet her—eyes shining with a dare—if she wanted hot and fast, he was ready.

Yes, yes she did.

One hand caught in his hair and the other at her own breast, she rode him with abandon. He attached his lips to her other nipple, bit down until it stung, then soothed with a flick of his tongue.

Panting out every breath, she felt her fingertips, her toes, her lips start to tingle. On the verge of hyperventilating, she slowed, opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and found him leaning back, looking down intently at where they were joined, watching himself be engulfed by her over and over as she moved.

"Rick."

Lightheaded and unable to hold herself upright any longer, she pitched forward, pinning him to the bed with her upper body. His arms came around her clutching her against him, and something clicked where their bodies met. And then the tingling took on a whole new meaning.

The look in his eye was almost feral when he thrust up into her, processed her unwitting cry. His hands pressed at the base of her spine, pulled her hips down hard against his.

All semblance of restraint evaporated as they fed off of each other's lack of inhibitions, rising higher, merging steadily into one writing, pulsating form. Two bodies, two minds, aimed at one goal—creating, sharing, multiplying pleasure.

Dark determination shone from his eyes, fixed on hers, waiting.

She knew he was waiting for her, could see the strain of holding back in the pointed press of his lips, the crinkle around his eyes.

Nearly there, she let out a frustrated huff at her body's unwillingness to fall. If he would just let go, she knew the force of it, the raucous delight of it would overtake her, too.

"I need you to let go," she breathed.

His eyes narrowed for the briefest second.

"Not without you."

"I'll be right there. I swear. Just go."

The snap of his hips, reverberating suddenly and fiercely through skin and muscle and bone, taking over, forging deeper with every push, bottoming out, was what finally sent her over. The climax stopped her breath, froze her body in a tight, needful clench around him, and then he gave in, finally letting everything loose, unbridled, impassioned under and around and inside her.

She wasn't herself at first—she was some ethereal being, floating outside her body, reveling in the sheer joy of the moment. When she did return to herself, it was to a cloud of sated lust, a limp and exhausted heap, held up only by the firmness of the body beneath her, ribs expanding and contracting with every breath, skin warm and dewy against her own.

She felt alive. But there was something else circling that she couldn't quite put her finger on… Oh, yes. She felt free.

She rolled off of him, her body sagging limply into the mattress. The cool night air wafting gently over her overheated skin, sheets and blankets bunched forgotten at the foot of the bed. Her hand flailed slightly as she felt him get out of the bed once more, fingers curling into the abandoned air but her eyes never left the black expanse of ceiling.

The mattress dipped as he crawled back into the bed next to her. His hand ran down the side of her leg gently, fingers caressing her, thigh, knee, back up over the jutting flare of her hip and across her belly.

She breathed out a sigh as his fingers danced over her ribs and down her other side.

Her hand rose to cup his face, thumb brushing against his cheek, mirroring her actions when they first found themselves in the room seconds, minutes, hours before. Time had lost all meaning.

He drew in a breath, parting his lips to say something but she silenced him with a look, a small smile, a feathered touch of her finger to his lips. He didn't need to say anything. She could see it all reflected back to her in his eyes. Right now, that was enough.

Nodding, he reached down and grasped the heavy blanket from the foot of the bed, drawing it up over them as he settled back against his pillow, turning to face her. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her snugly against him as his body turned heavy, sinking into the cloud-like bed.

Listening as his breathing evened, she turned her head so she could watched her fingers dance along his brow, tracing the line of a faint scar she found there, down the line of his nose and the gentle flair of his cheek bone. Her thoughts drifted through time and space without reason. She dared to think that the moment could not get anymore perfect than it was, the welcome weight of his arm grounding her to this reality, to him, to a future she could almost imagine.

Almost.

A/N two: Wow, how lovely to have the opportunity to contribute to a story I have SO enjoyed reading. A fanfic reader's dream come true. Thank you, and hope this has been even half as fun for you as it has for me. -KC


	2. Here With Me (Chapter 23 addition)

Unwritten: Here With Me

This is the 2nd M-Rated companion Piece to "Unwritten" by Caffinate-me. Co-written with Kate Christie. This fits after Chapter 23; follow the link below and jump forward to re-read it.

A/N (Caffinate-Me): I would just like to take a moment to thank KC for pestering me (oh so lovingly) into writing M for the 1st (and 2nd) time, and for not being afraid to figuratively slap me upside the head as my beta when needed. She is a fantastic co-author whom I have taken to also calling a friend. Thank you. I hope you all enjoy. - CM.

A/N (Kate): First of all, to my readers who have me on alerts, and so may be reading this because it appeared in their inbox under my name, if you are not already reading, following, and reviewing "Unwritten," you absolutely should be. Start here:

fanfiction dot net slash s slash 8306551 slash 1 slash Unwritten

And second of all, thank you to Caffinate-Me for the opportunity to write with her yet again on this gorgeous story (and turn her to the dark side). I would co-author with you any time! P. S. There WILL be sequins AND tequila someday soon. -Kate

I made a playlist, because that's what I do: youtube dot com slash playlist?list=PLnXP8GXCbzfV82VLhJBnJEwTbX_qqd6dt

# * # * # * #

And I won't go, I won't sleep

I can't breathe

Until you're resting here with me

I won't leave, I can't hide

I cannot be

Until you're resting here with me

-Here With Me, Dido

Talking. They were supposed to be talking. That was how she had left him at his apartment.

_Figure out what you want. Once you do, come see me and we'll talk._

Talk. Yes, they needed to do that. But it was funny how she was getting sort of distracted now- half-pinned under him against the mattress, mostly naked and all hands.

Had she really just made that sound? No, she was going to hold it together. She tried to resist letting out another moan, but his hand, his large, warm palm was wrapped around her waist, traveling slowly down her side, painting a line from the underside of her breast to the flare of her hip, and holy—it felt so good this should not be legal, except maybe in California. That same wide expanse of fingers and flesh was traveling lower, rounding her hip, sliding to her thigh, and when the hell had her pants come off, anyway?

Another desperate little noise escaped as his hand skimmed along the top of her thigh, running back up the inside of her leg, and she could feel him smiling into her mouth; the smug son of a bitch. No, they had to stop this. They had to talk to each other right now. Communication. That was the key to a healthy relationship, right? So far their relationship was far from—but oh god, having his body next to hers felt seriously _healthy_right now…

Kate pulled back with a mental shake of her head, breaking her lips away from his; her hands still roaming the plane of his back, reveling in the feel of his taut muscles against her fingers. Taking a moment to just look at him, shirtless and flushed, muscles flexing as he held himself over her, she realized there were more angles to him, more mass. She had gotten softer over the past few months, the ripples of muscle on her arms and torso fading away. The thought of going to the gym had made her nauseated. She still jogged most mornings, took the stairs, walked whenever she got the chance, but the idea of doing round after round of push-ups, pull ups, leg lifts, and sit ups reminded her of where she had been. It was what she had done to stay alive, to stay sane. She didn't want to have to rely on it anymore. He, on the other hand, was a different story.

"You've been working out," She smiled against his lips, fingertips dancing across his chest. Two could play this game. If he wanted to be a jerk, she could be a tease. It had been way too long since she could even have this effect on a man, and truth be told, it was fun.

He chuckled in response, his hands coming to rest against the mattress on either side of her head as he hovered over her, searching her eyes. "I had to do something to get my frustration out. Writing can be very daunting, you know. Needed… stress release. It seemed like a better option than one of those squeezy balls or internet porn."

His hand mimed the squeezing motion next to head as he said the words, and bubbles of surprised laughter spilled over her without permission. Of all the answers she had been expecting: _I've been in the spotlight, had to look the part. Gina liked fit men… _she hadn't been expecting him to start cracking jokes, especially about porn.

"I have an idea about another way to release some stress, if you think you can handle it."

Her hands traced down over his boxers, gripped the firm flesh of his ass to pull him tight against her. There would be time for more talking… later.

"Oh, I think I can handle anything you can throw at me."

Before he could paint another self-satisfied grin on his lips, she flipped him completely under her, using her hips to anchor his to the bed, and pinned his wrists above his head. The look of shock on his face: priceless.

"You were saying?"

Surprise rapidly melted into lustful awe; she could see his pupils dilating.

"That is still _so hot_."

Rolling her hips against his, she hovered just out of reach of his lips, then ran her tongue slowly around, wetting her own and eliciting a whimper from the back of his throat. Trying to reach her, he lifted his head off the bed, but she pulled away and tightened her grip on his wrists.

Oh, she would definitely be practicing her courtroom voice on him tonight, to... encourage... good behavior.

"Nuh uh. I want you to keep your hands to yourself. Do. Not. Move. Understand me, Mr. Castle?"

Apparently he had lost his words, as he just nodded vigorously up at her and relaxed back into the bed.

When she let go of her hold, he miraculously kept his hands right where they were, but cinched them around the edge of the comforter.

Kate made a study of all his new lines and edges, nibbling over the bulge in each biceps, outlining the curve of each pec with the tip of her tongue, nudging her nose along the edges of his abs. He had definition, much more than before, but not so much that he looked unapproachable. He felt… solid. Like he could bench press her without breaking a sweat. And to have him gripping the sheets, arching his back, humming and wanton and completely at her mercy, well, it could go to her head.

Power was fun. It suddenly occurred to her that sex was going to be even more fun, and that was a totally new concept. Stress-relieving, passionate, even loving had all been part of her experience, but laughter? Joking? A little bit of good-natured delayed gratification? All of that was a first.

Her inspection of his new-found bulk had finally led her to where he wanted her most. The evidence of his enthusiasm was hard to ignore, and she reveled in the growl he let out as she dragged her nails gently up and down his length through the soft cotton of his underwear. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she freed him from that last piece of clothing and then returned to breathe out gently over him. His hips flexed and strained, trying to keep himself still as she ghosted her lips millimeters from him. She chanced a look up at his face to find him watching her with rapt attention, lips parted to let out shaky breaths.

Keeping her eyes on his, she slid her tongue over his silky tip, collecting the drop of moisture that had already gathered there.

His control slipped, and his hips flexed up toward her mouth as his eyes slammed shut. God it had been a long time since she'd done this. Not that she was in danger of forgetting how, but it was a rush remembering the nuances, even if she hadn't had all that much practice. And she was sure this experience would be entirely different, pleasuring a man she loved, who loved and respected her, and who acted thrilled and amazed rather than entitled when presented with this opportunity.

Placing one palm against his thigh to still him, she wrapped the fingers of her other hand loosely at his base then closed her lips just barely over him. His eyes flew open, breath filling his lungs in a gasp at the contact. He managed to keep his eyes open as she sank down, slowly taking in as much of his smooth, rigid length as was comfortable. Flattening her tongue, she slid it along the underside of his shaft, applied the slightest suction, while her hand worked over him from below.. Losing eye contact with the awkwardness of the angle, she listened to the sounds resonating from his chest, his throat, his lips to gauge his response.

His taste, the dark, musky scent of him, the feel of him so intimately inside her, trusting and submitting, even his very presence in her room, in her bed, when she'd just appeared at his door hours before-she almost couldn't wrap her mind around what it all meant. But she could certainly show him exactly how much energy she had spent imagining this night over the past half year. There would be no question in his mind about how very much she wanted him after this.

Moving back up, she swirled her tongue over his head before sinking again, this time humming as she took him. That seemed to provoke further abandon, and she felt him twitch inside her mouth despite his perfect control of every other muscle. Setting up a slow, torturous rhythm that matched his stuttering catch and release of air, she played over him, driving him higher, and feeling her own body respond in kind.

When she used her other hand to cup him gently, his control finally cracked.

"Kate."

It came out as a plea, almost a sob, and she stilled, breathing out through her nose and swallowing around him.

"Fuck. You have to..."

For the first time since she had pinned him to the bed, she felt his hands against her head, his fingers brushing lightly against her scalp, and then they twined in her hair and gently, gently tugged upward.

"Come up here. Right now."

Releasing him with an audible "pop," she found his eyes, as dark as she'd ever seen them, and climbed up his body. Reaching over to the bedside table, she pulled protection from her open makeup case pocket and quickly sheathed him as he tried to stifle the groan provoke by just that amount of contact.

Aroused nearly to the point of pain herself, she straddled him and stroked her aching, swollen folds along his erection. She couldn't remember ever being so utterly turned on by an act directed at the enjoyment of another, but right now, all she wanted was to have him inside her, to share all that amazing sensation and movement and power.

And so she aligned them and took him in, the slow stretch of it making her impatient. His hands were clamped around her hipbones hard enough to bruise, and when she finally, finally came to rest against his hips, he dragged her forward and down.

So he remembered that, too.

"No fair. You're using all those new muscles against me."

They were the first words she'd spoken since she had told him to keep his hands to himself. Oh, was she happy that he'd finally disobeyed. The connection between their bodies was electric, and her body was already singing, back arching to press her center more firmly against him as he thrust deep and sure, hitting all the perfect, essential places inside her that she couldn't quite remember until this instant.

Smiling at her as she smirked, he thrust up harder, made her shudder.

"What if that's what all the muscles were for in the first place?"

She rolled her hips, was forced to bite back a whimper of protest as his hands tightened around her, stilling her. There was that self-satisfied grin again. It was like he had all the time in the world, all of a sudden.

What the hell?

"You were in a hurry to get me up here a second ago."

Her concentration was waning with every passing second-how could he be so completely in control when he had been on the verge of coming undone?

"Not in any rush now, unless, of course, you are."

Taking in the harsh lines of muscle corded in his neck, the clench of his jaw, the measured movements of his hips beneath hers, it dawned on her. He was bluffing. Giving him her calmest smile, she did her best to school her response to the delicious angle and pressure and god he just fit inside her so perfectly. But she was talking, right.

"Oh no, no rush at all. I could do this _all _night."

It was breathier than she would have prefered, but it would do. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in what might normally be the lead up to a smile, except that this seemed more... forced somehow. Panic. This was what panic looked like on Richard Castle.

But just when she thought she had him, he tried a new strategy, drawing on memories he must have had buried but not forgotten all these months. Planting his feet, his hips surged higher, forcing him deeper as he nearly took her weight off her knees. That was a really, horribly, dirty trick, giving her exactly what she needed, exactly how she liked it.

Damn him, she was close. But if she was falling, she was taking him with her.

Screw pride. If she had learned anything from her time in Texas, it was that honesty was its own reward. Gathering her courage and her voice, she looked him straight in the eye as she spoke, low and deadly calm.

"I've been imagining this for months, being this close, hearing your voice in my ear, watching your face, feeling your body move with mine. Come with me."

His whole face softened as her words, her sudden sincerity sunk in, and he reached for her, met her lips, kissing her hard and long and deep as their movements escalated. Pleasure, burning white hot where they were joined, began to curl out deep in her belly, into her veins.

Snapping his hips, he broke the kiss to let out a harsh breath.

"Kate, open your eyes."

Not realizing she had closed them, she complied, immediately finding his dark and open and so close; she could fall into those eyes, drown in the depths of love and desire that he was showing her, uninhibited, honest, everything.

The first wave of her climax forced his name from her lips, and everything inside her contracted, spirals of light and love and absolution overtaking her, pulling him over the same glorious edge. He bellowed as he thrust deep and came apart, came together, with her.

She was lying on top of him, her arms curled, trapped between their bare chests, her breath softly bathing his neck. Her body still trembled every few seconds in aftershocks, his palm splayed across the small of her back anchoring her to him. He managed to resist the urge to curl his other arm around her also, trapping her against his body, keeping her there. After all she was with him voluntarily. She had come back; that counted for something, right?

She nuzzled her nose into the sensitive skin behind his ear, her lips releasing words below, and a tremor rippled through his body, matching hers.

"I missed this."

Her words were like a phantom, dancing weightlessly across his consciousness, leaving part of him wondering if he had really heard them at all. He let out a contented sigh, eyes drifting closed as he finally wrapped his other arm around her, rolling her gently onto her back, settling on top of her once again. Her hazy eyes watched him, roamed over his face, studying every flicker of emotion as he studied her, his fingers playing with a lock of hair, twisting it mindlessly around.

He hadn't meant to do this. He hadn't meant to come here at all. She had left after dinner, and all of a sudden his mother and daughter were gone, too, leaving him alone with Gina standing awkwardly in the middle of his living room, the remnants of their meal still laid out on the table. Her words echoed through his mind.

_"You never told me you were in love with her."_

_The look on her face when he tried to deny it. Hell, _he_ didn't even believe the words that came out of his mouth. Silently he sank down on the couch, his head in hands. How was it possible for someone to be so rooted in his being that he couldn't forget her, move on, even after she had moved on herself?_

_"I saw how you were looking at her Richard. The way you couldn't take your eyes off of her all night. I'm not an idiot. How defensive you were at first, denying that you had any feelings for her, that your relationship was anything beyond professional, refusing to talk about her even though you've written both the books."_

_He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. _

_"Oh, don't even deny that Nikki Heat is based on her. I knew that from the beginning, but I stayed, believed you when you said she was a client, a mistake, nothing more. This whole time, I've just been hoping maybe you would start to look at me exactly the way you were looking at her tonight."_

_He finally looked up as Gina deflated onto the couch next to him._

_"I want to be over her."_

_She leaned in, patted his hand with her own before pushing herself forcibly off of the couch again and heading toward the door. The voice she used to call back to him sounded hollow, professional._

"_You'd better bring her to the book launch party. You can't even imagine what this story will do for sales."_

Kate broke into his memory, freed one hand to curl around his ear, her thumb brushing the shell softly as she stared up at him.

He had told himself he wasn't going to come here at all. He had repeated it to himself as a mantra as he had cleared the table and washed the never ending pile of dishes on the counter. He had said it aloud as he paced his office, sipping on two fingers of scotch-the expensive stuff he had bought himself in celebration of finishing the novel. His first novel. But even then, his denial had died on his lips as he flashed to the moment when his eyes had landed on the copy of that book she had been clutching against her chest when she crossed the threshold to his apartment.

She had promised him. No... she hadn't. She had never promised him that she would come back. By appearing that afternoon, she wasn't just rotely keeping her word. He had begged her to say she would return, but she had never agreed. Even so, she had come back, had asked him to talk. So he had come to talk. But seeing her, standing in her presence, the words he'd been denying for months to anyone who would listen had just come out-

"I love you."

His eyes snapped back to hers as his thoughts were thrust back into the moment; the words he'd heard so clearly inside his head had just come out of her beautiful, kiss-swollen, curving lips. A soft smile danced across them, and he saw the way her lower lip got tugged in, teeth gently clamping down on it.

Suddenly all the unsure feelings melted away, because he had known it the moment he saw her, standing at his door with a bag slung over her shoulder. She was telling him with that look, her actions- the way she was touching him so tenderly and those three little, tiny, enormous syllables.

Without a moment's hesitation, he believed her.

"I love you too."

And then he was kissing her again, his bare torso melting into hers, because sometimes three words were just precisely enough.

That kiss could have lasted hours, maybe days for all he knew about time or anything else that existed outside her arms. His lips became tools for exploration, finding every dip and swell of her smile, and when he'd reminded himself of every millimeter, his tongue continued the quest, slipping inside the wet heat of her mouth, skirting teeth, sliding along the ridges of her palate, swirling together with hers, finding ways to make her sigh, and moan, and finally wrap her body around him and pull him in closer.

The desire to have her again was almost overwhelming, though they had barely come down from the first high. But for all the speed and urgency of that act of reaquaintence, it had ended sweetly, left him wanting to worship her body with his instead of just pleasuring it.

And she loved him. And that changed everything.

The thought sent a shiver up his spine, made him press her into the bed with the weight of his body, hoping just that bodily presence would cement his own feelings in her heart. He wanted to draw her inside himself, keep her forever, warm and soft and lovely in his own bed, his own heart.

His name rolled off her tongue on a gasp as he found that magical spot just behind her ear, so he paused there to worry it a bit, let her arch her neck and cling to his arms. Had she been this vocal, this responsive and _intoxicating_all those months ago? He remembered heat and speed and trepidation and, eventually gentleness. But this music, this almost constant humming vibration seemed new. Confidence, in herself and in him-that must be what had her offering up so much to his ears, his lips, his skin.

Palming her breast gently, he felt her nipple harden under his touch. The months had done wonders for her, mind and body, it seemed. Curves and slopes inhabited the places where harsh edges had been. She filled his hand now, round and supple and spilling over his fingers, and he leaned down to taste her skin along the underside. Another new sound met his ears as he pulled her peak into his mouth and sucked gently.

Her hips were shifting erratically against the mattress, fingers kneading the ropes of muscle on either side of his spine. When he moved to her other breast, she parted her thighs, wrapped one endless leg at his waist, tried to maneuver him fully on top of her with an impatient little grunt.

Having his fill of skin, wanting deeper, darker contact instead, he went willingly, slipped inside her as he watched her eyes spark in the grey city light through the window. Her body rose to meet him, kept a slow, easy rhythm that made him ache in the best of ways, and let them take each other in through the build, catalogue reactions, both new and remembered.

As her breathing quickened and shallowed, lashes sank low and heavy, he kissed her again lightly, wanting that link, too, when they broke apart. The cadence of her hips faltered, and he felt the first whispering flutters grip him as he pushed steadily inside her. Reaching down to grip the knee she still had around his waist, he pulled it up higher, pressed her thigh down into the mattress against her side. Her eyes widened at the change in angle that let him in deeper, while tightening her around him.

"Good?" He whispered against her lips, still unsure enough to want the verbal affirmation.

"So good." Nodding as she let the words out on a tight pant, he saw she was struggling to hold on, to wait for him again.

Picking up speed, he rushed headlong into the maelstrom of sensation, body tensing as he drove both of them closer.

God he had loved her, wanted her, spent half his waking thoughts for months on living this very moment, this one and all the others he swore this time he would have with her. But despite all his daydreaming, he never actually thought he would be here. But the feel of her body tensing under him, the taste of her skin, the smell of sweat and sex and something that was absolutely her and her alone, all of them conspired to let hope invade his heart, and once it was there, to crack it wide open.

Their bodies slick, breathing short and exact, skin flushed bright, they chanted out a mantra of nonsensical syllables with occasional words mixed in-love, yes, here, please, now. He no longer knew which sounds came from him and which from her, but everything rose, winding higher in pitch until he felt her clench, saw her eyes fly open. And then they were crying out a single, keening note, because he was coming, too, the pleasure swelling and shooting through him and into her as she clamped down in counterpoint, the searing burst of electricity looping back to feed his climax, stringing it out until he thought he had nothing left.

When he realized some undetermined amount of time later that he had collapsed on top of her without regard for suffocation or comfort, he tried lifting his head from its place somewhere near her shoulder, only to find himself pinned down by a hand, fingers clutching at his hair. With every body part he tried to move, he encountered similar restraints: an arm clamped around his neck, another across his ribs, a lanky leg like a vise at his waist, and another firmly settled over his hips.

Perhaps this was not the time to bring up the fact that he'd never thought of her as "clingy," but now he was definitely going to have to revise that...

Dozing together, the minutes passed, and slowly her limbs loosened, allowing him to roll off beside her, only to have her curl into him again. Not that he was complaining; he would gladly have her by his side forever.

"Stay with me tonight?" The question was quiet, her lips murmuring it into his ribs.

Glancing over the unruly mass of her hair as it splayed over his chest, he looked out the window and realized the first rosy hints of dawn were coloring the sky. With a quirk of a smile, he had the urge to lighten the mood with a glib comment about how much of the night they'd managed to fill so effectively. But he thought better of it when it sank in exactly _why_she was asking. It made his heart clench, his gut twist to think she believed she even had to, so he hoped his answer would be the first step toward trust, and hope, and a future together.

"Always, Kate. Always."

# * # * # * #

All feedback will be forwarded to Caffinate-Me.

Twitter: Kate_Christie_ & aspen_musing

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	3. Uncharted (Chapter 28 addition)

**Unwritten: Uncharted**

**This is the 3rd and final M-Rated companion piece to "Unwritten" by Caffinate-me. Co-written with Kate Christie. This fits in the middle of chapter 28, which can be read here:**

**fanfiction dot net slash s slash 8306551 slash 28 slash Unwritten**

One would assume that it would be traumatizing to be forced into seclusion, made to live 'off the grid' so to speak, but for Kate it was a relief, like a weight had been lifted. She no longer had to look over her shoulder, fear that every person on the street was someone working against her. Not that it had always been that bad, it hadn't; there had been good days, good weeks since she had been released from prison, but sometimes it seemed like those were few and far between even with the protection of the file with her. So now, the weightless euphoria of freedom was swirling with the ecstasy of feeling Castle's lips traveling down her bare skin, thin layers of cotton falling away as he ventured south, and it was fast becoming overwhelming-making her giddy.

His fingertips skated over her shoulders, down her arms, a whisper on her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and she bit her lip to keep from giggling as his lips caressed the sensitive spot at the base of her neck. A small sound escaped her throat despite her efforts, and he paused, his seeking lips lifting into a smile against her skin.

"Did you just giggle?" He teased.

"No." She breathed. She had managed to produce a coherent word; it was a step in the right direction.

His smile grew, his tongue darting out between parted teeth to taste the same patch of sensitive skin. "Yes, you did."

Kate gasped; the arousal mixing with the ticklishness was nearly overpowering. She shook her head. "No, I didn't."

Admitting it would only make him tease harder.

He pulled back, amusement and deviousness dancing with the arousal in his eyes. Oh, he was going to try to make her give in.

She bit her lip, smiling impishly back up at him. Challenge accepted. She took a step to the side, pivoting so she was slowly backing away from him, hips at full sway. And when she knew she had his undivided attention, she reached up and pulled the straps over her shoulders, sliding them slowly the rest of the way down her arms. When she released them, the top of the dress fell to rest on the soft swell of her hips, and her nipples peaked as the breeze caressed her naked chest.

His eyes widened as she backed against the banister and braced her arms at her sides in a move calculated to not-so-subtly accentuate her half-naked state. Her single eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

_Make me_.

Castle stood transfixed, blatantly staring at the siren leaning back against the porch railing, seeming to summon the sea and sun and wind for her purposes of seduction.

As if he needed seducing.

He liked this new Kate: defiant, confident, carefree-as though all her worries had suddenly fallen away. Might even be able to get used to the blonde hair, now caught in the wind, swirling around her sun-kissed shoulders in messy, whipping waves.

Snapping out of his momentary daze, in seconds he was pressed to her heaving chest, mouth worshipping, tongue tangling, challenging, retreating as hers came out to play. His hands cupped those perfect breasts, hips ground against hers so that she knew exactly what her little strip tease had done to him.

When he pulled away to attach himself to her neck yet again, using every trick he knew to tease that perfect, incapacitating little spot, she not only giggled, but also threaded her hands into his hair to hold him closer. It wasn't long before the giggles transformed into gasps.

Just as he was about to lean down to torment all the other sensitive spots that he called up from memory, he realized there was an easier option. Sliding his hands down, he hoisted her up, set her on the smooth, wide, perfectly positioned banister. Whoever built this porch deserved a bonus. All the bonuses...

When she leveraged him in closer, wrapped her legs around, all with that feral glint in her eye, all thoughts of the engineering of porch railings evaporated. She looked ready to ravish him.

Scratch that, she looked ready to eat him _alive_.

Oh, God, what a way to go.

Attempting to get some hold on himself, keep this from ending before it had really begun, he pulled back as much as the secure hold of her legs would allow and tried for a little banter.

"Nice place you've got here. Gorgeous view."

Quirking his eyebrows up, he shot a glance down at her chest.

"Ocean's not bad, either."

Her laughter rang through the air, and no other sound in the world could have been more welcome. From now on, it was his goal to hear it every single day.

But at this moment, he had another very specific goal in mind, and it involved more skin and less clothing.

Her hot little hands had already undone the button of his jeans and were working on the zipper when his fingers began to nudge the hem of her cotton sundress up the smooth lines of her thighs. His thumb brushed against the soft skin at the crease of one hip, and just as he realized what exactly she was not wearing under said sundress, she rewarded him with a playful look.

_What can I say? I knew you were coming._

Before he had time to react, she had him in hand, nimble fingers stroking, forcing all the air from his lungs in a surprised groan.

This was not going to take long.

No matter, they had plenty of time for slow and easy: hours, days, months, years. And by the way her heels were digging into his backside, insistently pulling him closer, he wasn't the only one up for hard and fast.

Spanning her waist with his hands, he dragged her to the edge of the railing, let her shove his jeans and underwear just far enough out of the way, and finally, _finally_ made contact. God she was soaking wet. He couldn't help taking just a moment to tease her bundle of nerves with his tip. His abs weren't the only muscles that clenched when she threw her head back and cried out his name at the top of her lungs.

Only the sound of waves and the music of wind chimes echoed back across the beach. Definitely no need to be quiet here. Maybe it was time to figure out a few new ways to make her scream.

When she found his eyes again, fingers digging into his biceps through the cotton of his sleeves, she left no doubt as to her intentions.

"Now, please, right now."

Easing away with a low grunt, he flexed his hips up, and in one long stroke, slid home.

It wasn't clear which of them had made the unearthly noise at their joining, but it only spurred him on. Her teeth found the ridge of muscle holding his neck upright, nibbled lightly, and then bit down. So she wanted to play rough? Oh, he could manage that well enough.

Fingers playing over the muscles of her naked back, he coaxed her further forward, letting gravity pull her down into him just as his hips drove upward. When their bodies connected with an audible slap, he felt himself bottom out inside her, and she released her hold on his neck to let out a staccato curse in his ear.

"Fuck."

He did it again.

"Yes."

And again, this time adding a tight circle to his hips as their bodies slammed together, her thighs clamping down around his waist.

"Oh, don't stop."

Pressing his thumbs into the straining muscles at the point of her shoulder blades, he coaxed her to arch her chest against him, somehow found his voice.

"Not something you have to worry about."

Well, unless he got ahead of himself and beat her to-

"Rick-"

Her body strained against him, back bowing, nails gripping his shoulders just past the point of pain.

So he wasn't so far ahead of her after all.

Putting every last ounce of strength behind the movement, he sped up, plunged inside her until he felt her flutter and clench, her velvet heat pulsing around his length until he could hold on no longer.

Keening out her name, he spilled inside her in an unending series of messy, uncoordinated thrusts, fed by so many weeks of pent up desire.

When both finally stilled, breathing ragged, exhausted limbs shaky and loose, she was the first to speak, lips working over the tender skin where her teeth had so enthusiastically clung, one arm resting limply on his shoulder.

"Alo-ha."

His surprised guffaw separated them, letting the breeze slither between them as he smiled up at her, arms still wrapped loosely at her waist.

"That was quite a 'welcome home.' Think this new place has a porch, too?"

"After that? If not, we can build one."

He leaned into her, nuzzling his forehead into the curve of her neck, the same curve that was lighting up with red splotches. He would hear about that later, he was certain, but for now he couldn't care less, didn't want to care about anything other than the way she felt pressed against him.

"I hate to ruin my manly image, but I'm not sure I can be vertical for much longer."

She smiled against his cooling skin, and he could feel a quip about his 'manly image' forming on her lips when, instead, she lifted her head to press a kiss to the shell of his ear.

"There are plenty more parts of this porch to christen that can involve being horizontal."

She was going to kill him. But death by fantastic sex somehow didn't sound so bad...

He suppressed another groan as she drew enough strength to secure her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck once again.

Once he had her, unsteady as his legs might have been, his only goal was to keep her there, suspended in midair, clinging to him, trusting him. He eyed the hammock critically before making his way toward the chaise instead. The swing might be fun, but for now he wanted something more... stable.

And after months without her, after so much time spent apart, the thought suddenly hit him that he was _here_, with her, _forever_. The little box in his pants pocket was just the icing on the cake. Who would have believed they would find any kind of forever, especially one spent together?

Looking up into her face, noticing for the first time the dusting of freckles just peeking out over her nose from the sun, he laid his lips gently on hers as he lowered her slowly to the lounge. The words just spilled out, unbidden.

"I love you."

Swallowing to keep the sentimentality in check, he found her looking up, watching him, a smile blooming on her lips.

"I kinda figured, what with the whole following me to the middle of the Pacific Ocean and all."

Gathering the fabric of her dress where it had bunched at her waist, she lifted her hips and shimmied it the rest of the way down. His brain stopped working. Naked Kate. Naked, glowing, gorgeous Kate. And then she was bracing her hands behind her, scooting up the chaise slowly. Need stirred in him once again. No one else had this effect on him, only her.

Shooting him another smile, her pink tongue peeking out teasingly, she leaned back, arms curling behind her head. That was an invitation if he'd ever seen one; he had no choice but to crawl up after her.

"You picked a good spot to become a recluse."

Dropping kisses to her ankle, knee, thigh, he leisurely made his way up her body, finally coming to rest beside her, head propped on his hand.

"I could have lived in a yurt in Patagonia as long as you were with me."

She reached up and ran a hand through his hair, the teasing tone mixing with the pure affection swirling in her eyes. She wasn't one to be sentimental; the wall, still firmly in place, protected her from everyone except him, but it also didn't allow for eloquent soliloquies or poetic words. He could read the hidden meaning, though. _I could live anywhere as long as I was with you. You're my home, Castle not some location on a map. _

"Well, how was I to say no to coffee plantations, active volcanoes and unlimited sex with a beautiful island girl?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she laid both palms against his chest to slide the edges of his shirt further apart.

"Beautiful island girl, huh? Do I get to meet her, or are you keeping her all for yourself?"

The sound that came out of him was stuck between a cough and a wheeze, and she smirked as she brought a knee up to press against his side. Incorrigible tease. Two could play at this game.

"Oh, I think you've met her once or twice. Pretty girl, thinks she can leap tall buildings is a single bound, used to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, even though the load seems to be a lot lighter nowadays."

Pausing to run a hand over her shoulder, he pushed away the locks of golden hair that had fallen there before leaning in to brush a kiss over her skin.

"Oh yeah, I remember her now," she parried back, but stopped with a gasp as his lips trailed south again, latched onto one pebbled nipple.

Releasing her with a pop, he looked up to find her lids fluttering closed. "She's not someone you're likely to forget. Has a way of getting burnt on the soul." Her eyes opened at that, and she sat up, shoved his shirt the rest of the way off, started to reach lower.

It didn't take long for his remaining clothes to find their way to the deck. But their enthusiasm didn't translate into haste; this time they took their time, spending long stretches of it just looking, reminding themselves of all they had missed- warm hands and mouths gliding over flushed skin.

It was a matter of pride that he rediscovered all the spots that drove her crazy, made her whole body hum beneath his hands, her voice rise as the tide over the beach below.

They lay stretched out, facing each other, heads resting against the brightly colored pile of pillows on the wide chaise. The brightness of their tropical sun, now hanging lower over the ocean caught the angles of their bodies, the curves, the planes. And he catalogued every one of hers with ravenous eyes, light fingertips, and a playful tongue. Her skin tasted of sea spray and smelled sweet, that indefinable scent he could only associate with her.

Nimble fingers kneaded the muscles of his arms, one instant relaxing them, only to inflame them again the next.

When she leaned in to trace the sharp edge of his deltoid with the tip of her tongue, nibble her way along the curving arc of his collarbone, he momentarily lost his train of thought, forgot which place he planned to explore next. His palm landed on the swell of her hip, and he went with it, let his fingers stretch and flex along the silky skin of her thigh. Detouring behind her knee, he tugged her leg up until she slid it over his waist, took the opportunity to nudge his own leg between hers.

It was almost startling to see her this way, so intimate, so open, body and heart on full display. The urge to watch her fall apart just like this was irresistible. When he aligned himself against her, made warm, slippery contact with her center, her pupils grew until only tiny rims of hazel and gold encircled them.

His lips found hers, barely grazing the soft, pink flesh, sharing breath. Her eyes stayed open even when he shifted his hips, dipped into her snug heat, parting delicate flesh as he steadily inched his way deeper. Breath caught in mid-exhale, lips parting on a silent "oh," her cheeks bloomed before him, the blood suffusing the skin.

When he could go no further, he stilled, let his fingertips dance over the arching, straining muscles along her spine, felt the gooseflesh rise on her porcelain skin.

Clenching her inner muscles around him, she rocked her hips, barely moving but inciting a riot of sensation at every point their bodies touched. Matching his thrusts to her slow, fluid undulations, he kissed her-this time thorough, persuasive, deep.

With some of the desperation gone, he was in no hurry to finish. He might be able to do this all day with her.

Every day.

The certainty of that future flowed through him, spurred him on, renewed his resolve to take her over the edge with just this slow, even tenderness, this soft merging, this give and take.

When she ended the kiss, her lips were swollen, lids heavy, eyes unfocused. She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, and finally she was his, and he, hers. No more running, no more hiding.

Their movements began to intensify, gasps and panting cries propelling them forward toward their peak. Cinching her leg tighter around his waist, Kate arched into him, a moan escaping her lips, her eyes locking with his.

"I love you, Rick."

As the words spilled from her lips, he felt her let go, her body giving in to its release. And just that subtle shudder and vibration, the feel and the taste and the smell and the sound of her as she fell, pushed him over the edge with her. All the love he'd kept tucked close to his chest, hidden from the world, burst free from his heart, his lips. Love reserved only for her.

"Love you, too. Oh, so much, Kate, so much."

Her eyes never once wavered, still peering into his own with an intensity that should have been frightening, would have been with anyone other than her. But they spoke words she might never have been able to vocalize, at least not until today.

"Always."

And that was enough. That was all he needed to hear.

**A/N (Caffinate-Me): Thank you to everyone who had read/followed/reviewed this story and the M companions. They have been a lot of fun to write. And thank you to Kate for holding my hand as I fumbled my way through this first M writing experience. All the wine in the world wouldn't have helped me as well as you did. You are awesome. - Alex**

**A/N (Kate Christie): I'm honored to have been able to write with Alex on such a wonderful story. What a fantastic collaborator, beta, and partner in crime! (Oh yeah, and psychiatrist.) M-whispering has never been so much fun. ;) Until next time... - KC**

**All feedback will be forwarded to Caffinate-Me.**

**Twitter: Kate_Christie_ & aspen_musing**

**Tumblr: KathrynChristie dot tumblr dot com**


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